SHE COULD FEEL HIM
by ForeverAmberlie
Summary: HAYLIJAH AFTER SEASON 4: It's been five years apart. Thanks to Marcel, Elijah might not remember... but Hayley can't forget. She just wants to see him- she just needs to see him. Nothing more. But when she finds him... *Will build to smut. Hot, hot smutty smut.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: She Could Feel Him

Somehow it was fitting that it was raining when she left the Salvatore School. It fit her mood—because she wasn't hopeful, and she knew what she was doing should be…hidden. The clouds overhead and the grey all around felt like cover, as Haley's hazel eyes scanned the dark, slick road to the small airport outside of Mystic Falls. The sky was keeping her secret.

The nervousness she had felt for months, as she contemplated her need to see him completely abated on the flight to France. Not because she felt all was well. But because she had decided it wasn't, and it was probably never going to be again, and _oh fucking well_.

She needed to _just see him_.

It had been five years, and the ache for him had never left her. Five years knowing he didn't remember… It was best that way. She wanted him to be happy after all, didn't she? Elijah should be happy. Or at least have peace.

The last letter Freya had Keelyn pass to her from Klaus hinted that he knew something of Elijah's life now, and that he was ok… Hayley knew he'd broken the rules. _Klaus_ —he'd seen him, somehow. She could read it between the sad lines of his letter. Poor, lonely Klaus…Unlike her, he couldn't see their daughter grow up and become all she was meant to become. He didn't get to keep even one thing he loved, one person he loved. Freya was with Keelyn, who acted now as the communicator for the family, keeping everyone's secrets and assuring all that the rest were well. Even when they weren't, not exactly… Kol had Davina. Rebecca had Marcel. But Klaus, who could never stand to be alone? He had no one he loved, or more importantly— _who loved him_. Not anymore.

So who was she to judge how he made it through? How do you spend a thousand goddamn years loving someone, only to be forced to give him up? She could hardly deal with five fucking years. So fine, Klaus spied. She couldn't blame him.

But ever since she realized it, she couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like just…to see him. Even if she never let him see her.

 _Elijah._

When she landed in the south of France, and the sky was azure, and the air smelled like lavender, she tried not to think it meant anything. _It's not a sign, Hayley. It's France._ He had, after all, told her it was perfect, hadn't he?

 _We will leave this place._

 _Oh, yeah? Where will we go?_

 _When this is over, we will go to the south of France, this perfect little village I know… Venosc. Beautiful hills, beautiful buildings, blue skies. We will drink wine, and soak up the sun. I promise you…_

She hadn't forgotten. How many nights had she drunk wine without him, and remembered? Imagined this perfect place? Fallen asleep with the vision of his promise in her minds eye? Too many to count, in five years. And now she looked out of her hotel window, watching the light play surreal colors of pink and orange across the sky that had been blue. The building's he spoke off looked drenched in rosewater. She smiled sardonically to herself. _Well, if he's not here, at least it will be a nice change of scenery, girl._

But she knew he was there. He was somewhere out there, down one of the ancient cobble streets. She knew.

She could feel him.


	2. Chapter 2:Before He Touched Her

Chapter Two: Before He Touched Her

It was a small village, not really for tourist. Hayley was assured by the old man at the front desk of her hotel that she would be able to find her way around easily. His kind face was a maze of crinkles and time spent laughing. The twinkle in his cloudy blue eyes made her think he was flirting, even though he spoke no English… She smiled her thank you, as he handed her a hand sketched map to the down town area, a few blocks away.

She walked along, fingering the amber amulet Bonnie, who now taught magic at the Salvatore School, had given her. She was really one of Hayley's best friend's these days… They bonded over a history of being pulled into drama that wasn't their own, loving the wrong men… _and losing them_. Heartache.

Bonnie understood the risks, and didn't _love_ the idea when Hayley mentioned what was in her mind, one slightly drunken night at The Grill. But. If she could see Enzo, Bonnie admitted, she would also try…

 _So. If you're going to do it, keep this on you. It will mask your essence,_ her friend told her. _Just in case._

 _He's been compelled to forget, remember?_ _…He's forgotten all about me. About all of us,_ she'd sighed. Bonnie had studied her, with her trademark sad smirk.

 _Yeah, well. Shit happens. Also,_ she joked, _it will bring out your werewolf eyes._

That was for sure. _Too much shit happens_ , thought Hayley now, tucking the amulet into her shirt.

The streets were awakening with the evening. Couples sat at intimate tables outside cafes, and golden lamps lit the walkway. Every now and then someone in a neat white apron would try to direct her inside, offering her to try _les speciaux, mademoiselle?_ Hayley demurred, and followed the sound of music until she came upon its source. She gazed through etched glass double doors of what seemed to be a jazz club, not unlike those back in New Orleans.

Elijah always loved the music of New Orleans. There was hardly anything in this village, if he were here at all…this is where he would be, she decided. This is the kind of place they would have been together. The thought made her ache…

 _She could feel him._

It could just be her imagination, her obsession playing tricks on her. But she started to breathe a bit faster as she stepped inside.

The room was filled with more small tables, like those that lined the street outside, and also intimate booths lit from overhead by antique looking crystal and bronze lamps. Old mirrors and black lacquered paneling lined the walls, and glasses clinked, and delicious smells of cheese and bread and red wine floated around her—reminding her she was _starving_. In the back of the room was a long, very solid looking mahogany bar, just filling up with people.

Her eyes fell on the piano in the corner. Even though she thought this had been the source of the music she's heard, no one played it now. She let out the breath she'd been holding. _Oh, honey. You need a drink._

At the bar, she could see her reflection in the mirrors behind it, through the forest of bottles filled with honey colored liquors. She looked tense, she realized. She rolled her head from side to side, and took another deep breath.

 _Get it together Hayley. He's probably not here, and you're never going to see him again._

What were the chances of him being here, really? Just because she'd carved the name of this village he promised her into her brain— _Venosc, Venosc_ \- obsessing like a like a child obsessed over what they wanted for Christmas? It was a guess, at best. A far-fetched crazy hope.

She rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hands until she saw stars. _It was ridiculous. This whole thing. And worse than that, probably dangerous to them all._

The bartender approached and spoke to her in French. She shook her head in apology, "Oh…ah… Just, ah. Wine? Vino? —That's not French, is it? Shit."

The bar tender smiled and nodded anyway, turning to hold up two bottles. "Blanc? Ou Rouge?" He asked.

"Oh man, thank god. Rouge. Please. Ah…Merci."

He poured for her, and set down a small basket of warm bread with a golden crust. It smelled like heaven, and when she put a piece in her mouth she looked at him like he was God.

"This is amazing. Oh my _god_ ," she reported, seriously.

He smiled and nodded, "Ah, oui." As if it were obvious the best bread on the planet would be here.

She took another piece, and kept talking. "I mean, we had good food in New Orleans. But Mystic Falls leaves a lot to be desired. You…don't know what I'm saying."

He kept smiling and nodding, refilling her wine. "Thanks…" she raised her dark brows in question for his name.

"Je m'appelle David", he lightly patted his chest.

" _Daveeeed_ … Nice to meet you." Hayley attempted to pronounce as he did, making him laugh lightly. "I'm Hay—" she stopped herself. She hadn't thought what she could call herself on this little nutty mission. "Leigh… I'm Leigh. Je m'appelle _Leigh_."

"Leigh", He repeated. "Oui, bien."

Behind her, someone tinkled the piano keys. Hayley's eyes rushed to the mirror, searching the reflection of the room. A red-haired woman stood near the piano at a microphone stand, and a dark skinned man sat at the piano starting up a rolling prelude.

A man who wasn't Elijah.

Hayley sighed. But when the woman started singing, in a rich melodic voice, she couldn't help but turn on her seat. Even in French, she could hear how beautiful the singing was. She tried to pick out the song, because the melody sounded familiar. She tilted her head, as though it would help her pick out what it was…

"An old Eva Cassidy tune. Always a favorite." He said, from right beside her.

Hayley looked up into his profile. His familiar, strong profile, as he watched the singer across the room.

She stopped breathing.

He looked down into her eyes, his own warm and brown, and crinkling around the edges in thoughtfulness. "Lovely, is it not?" He asked.

 _Elijah._

When she didn't answer, he titled his head in question, prompting her.

"Yes. Lovely," she heard a ghost of her own voice answer.

He turned to the bar and spoke to David in French. David put a short glass down before him and filled it with a rich brown liquid he'd taken from under the bar. She watched him, her whole body felt stunned. He smiled sideways at her, in curiosity, before downing the drink and tapping the bar for another.

"You are visiting." It was a statement.

"Yeah…" the ghost said.

"We get very few visitors this time of year." He fingered his glass, and watched her. "Especially…like you."

She cleared her throat, and picked up her wine. "Like me? American?"

He slowly smiled again. His eyes making a study of the contours of her face. He didn't answer. His gaze fell onto the hand that held her wine glass, and the ring she donned.

It wasn't a daylight ring, as she didn't need one. But it was a Mikaelson family ring, that Rebecca had once given her to be handed down to Hope someday... _Tell her that her Auntie Becks loves her…_ Hayley passed her glass to the other hand and tucked the ring hand into her pocket.

"I'm terribly sorry, I'm being rude. Please allow me to introduce myself; my name is Elijah."

Hayley was stunned when he said it. She assumed he had been compelled by Marcel to forget who is was…

"Elijah… Nice to meet you…I'm Leigh." She responded as if from a fog. All of it seemed like a dream to her.

"…Leigh." He mulled the name she gave him, still studying her face to the point of causing her to blush. "Leigh, would you care to dance with me?"

Hayley looked at the open space between the singer and the tables, where only one couple danced closely. Before she could figure out what to say, she felt him take her wine glass from her hand and set it on the bar. Then he was holding it, her hand… and Hayley was sure she _was_ dreaming. Everything slowed down, as if she were in a spell. She could no longer hear the sounds in the room like she had just moments before.

Before he touched her.


	3. Chapter 3: You Don't Know Me

Chapter Three: You Don't Know Me

All she was aware of was his touch.

His skin on her skin seemed to send electricity up her arm. She was only slightly coherent of being led through the maze of tables, to the space in front of the piano and the singer who had moved on to another slow, jazzy sounding song, that only added to the surreal moment.

She was pulled gently into his arms, her body against his, his face close— _so close_!— to hers. Her vampire senses seemed in overdrive. The sensation of his breath softly blowing her hair, of his heartbeat, of his hand in her hand, and his arm around her waist. It was almost too much. She closed her eyes and breathed in his sent. God how she'd missed even the smell of him. She was dreaming. This wasn't real.

 _Elijah_

"Yes?" He spoke softly in her ear. Her eyes opened and she realized she's spoken his name out loud...

Quickly she attempted to cover. "How long have you been here? You don't sound French."

"No, I'm not. But I enjoy it here. The food, the wine, the… joie de vie, if you will…"

 _The joy of life_. Did he now feel joy in life, she wondered? She had hoped so.

"And so you live here…all the time?" She asked.

"I spent some time in Paris. It is wondrous—have you been?"

"No…" she'd never really been anywhere. Unlike him, she wasn't so old, and most of her young life she'd spent poor and running. Hiding, searching. Once upon a time, she'd imagined seeing it all with him. "No, this is my first time out of America, actually."

Elijah pulled back to look at her for a moment, his brows raised in curiosity. She was once again struck by the reality of him so near, that she was looking into his eyes, that he was close enough to kiss… She ducked her face back into his shoulder. _Cashmere sweater_. _He's not wearing a suit,_ she realized.

"And you found yourself here, in this provincial village?" he gently teased.

"Well… I once heard it was beautiful here."

He was quiet for a moment, swaying with her to the music.

"It is. Paris is full of wonderful things. But…something drew me here a few years ago. And here I have stayed."

Hayley brushed her cheek against the solidness of his shoulder. "Forever?"

He sighed out a chuckle. "Well, forever is a very long time, isn't it?"

"Yes. It is." The last five years had felt like forever, to her. And she didn't think she believed in _always,_ or _forever_ anymore.

"…But then, for people like you and I…" He spoke softly into her hair. "Time has little meaning."

Hayley pulled back and looked at him. Of course he knew she was a vampire. They always knew their kind. But then, she hadn't intended to be here in his arms so close to him, to even let him _see_ her…exactly.

 _Didn't you?_

She tucked her lips between her teeth, as was her nervous habit, while she tried to think if what she should say. He smiled crookedly at her. "Oh, come now. You could hardly think I wouldn't notice. Until a moment ago, I have been the only one here."

She nodded understanding. "Of course."

"And, well… You _are_ stunning." She told her matter of factly. "I could hardly be expected to keep my distance. The curiosity would have driven me to distraction."

He grinned at her and pulled her back in, again swaying to the piano. "So tell me, Leigh… What brings you to this place? Was it a craving for a French country meal?" He asked. "They _are_ quite delicious. Sweet, yet bold, with just a hint of thyme," he said in a low, humming voice, as if he were describing the regions wine and not its people. Hayley couldn't help but laugh a little under her breath. He always had such a dry sense of humor.

"I just needed to get away…" He let her non-answer sit, waiting. When she didn't elaborate, he nodded once.

"I see. Well, you don't need to tell me all your secrets in one night…"Hayley could hear the humor in his voice, but somehow his inference to future nights together shook her. There would be no future nights.

She rubbed her cheek on his shoulder thoughtfully. She wanted to melt into him. Soak up the feeling of being in his arms again…because it wouldn't last.

 _Elijah, even after all this time…_

 _I know. For me, too._

…They danced in silence until the song ended. He let her go from his embrace, but kept hold of her hand. "I noticed you were enjoying the bread before. Are you hungry, would you care to dine with me?"

Hayley felt herself steady once out of his arms for a moment. She smiled at him in relief, "Yes, I think I do need to eat, actually."

"Very well," He placed her hand on his arm, formally, as if they were at a Mystic Falls cotillion, and he was her handsome escort. He led her back toward the bar, and signaled to David, saying something in French. Then he surprise her by leading her to a door further back, which he opened and gestured for her to enter before him. She raised her brows at him, in question.

"I didn't mention I owned this establishment, did I?" He said, gesturing again "Please."

"No, you didn't" she answered, walking into a well-appointed back room. It looked very much like the family room at the compound in New Orleans, she realized. Comfortable antique furniture, dark woods, a table by the window, and a hearth where only embers glowed…and over it hung a painting.

By an artist she knew.

Hayley turned to Elijah, her large hazel eyes searching his calm face. How did he have one of Klaus's pieces?

"This is nice," she motioned to the painting. "A little… _dark_ , maybe…" She looked at the white oak tree, glowing against a night sky lit up by what seemed to be a distant fire.

"Yes, I suppose it is." He came to stand beside her. "I picked it up in Paris, not long ago. A sidewalk vender, if you can believe it. I'm not sure why it spoke to me… it just did."

"A sidewalk artist. Did you speak to him about it? The artist?" She asked as causally as she could. She couldn't imagine Klaus selling his work on the street.

"No, actually. I don't even know the artist name." He turned to smile at her, "Imagine, I could own a Picasso, and not even know it."

"You could."

"Although," he leaned in as if sharing a secret, his voice lowered. "I think I actually would know a Picasso. I think I may have known _him_ , if truth be told."

Hayley just looked at him. "You _think_?"

He tapped his head, and shook it, when a gentle knock sounded at the door. "I…have _holes_ , as it were. Entre!" he called.

 _He had holes_.

Hayley watched as David set their food down at the table, and Elijah pulled out a chair for her. She sat, and he sat across from her…then easily took David's wrist, poked it with something silver and filled her glass, and then his own, with blood while the bartender watched without reaction.

"Merci, David," Elijah said, dismissing him politely. Hayley watched him leave, before picking up her glass, and looking at him over the rim... He watched her, waiting. She sipped the warm liquid.

"Well. I don't taste the thyme…maybe brie."

Elijah grinned at her joke. She felt her heart catch when he did it. She wanted to reach across the table and stroke him. "Yes, I would not doubt it. The French do enjoy their pungent cheese." He agreed good-naturedly.

"So you live here, own this club, and dine on your employees?" Causing him to chuckle.

"It is a tiny village, after all. One must be careful. My arrangement…simplifies things." He offered, placing a serving of coco vin on the plate before her.

"Simplified," she mused out loud. "That would be nice."

"Is your life not simple, then?" Hayley thought for a moment about her life now in Mystic Falls, where Hope went to school.

"I suppose it has been simple…simpler. For awhile now." She acquiesced, quietly.

Elijah stilled his fork mid-bite over his plate, and when Hayley looked at up at him he was watching her, his head tilted and his eyes pondering. She suddenly felt her cheeks heat. "Are you sad?"

"What?" She coughed on her last sip of blood, startled by his direct but gentle question. By the look in his eyes—one she knew so, so well.

"Are you sad?" He asked again. "You seem… so _sad_. Tell me; how is one so beautiful, so sad?"

His brown eyes looked directly into hers, over the soft glowing light from the lone votive on the table between them. As a hybrid, he couldn't compel her, she knew…and yet she _felt_ compelled to answer him.

"Things…Life…isn't what I wanted."

"What did you want?"

 _You. I wanted you. More than anything._

"…Always and forever." She heard herself whisper.

As soon as she said it, it shook her from her trance. Elijah's eyes sharpened. "What did you say?" He asked.

Hayley gulped the last of David's blood, and stood up. "This has been very nice—thank you! I—I think I need to go now-" She moved toward the door, but he was there in front of her, grabbing both her arms. His brow crinkled is question.

"What did you say?"

"I need to go now, Elijah" She tried.

"Please. Tell me what that means—'always and forever'! Why did you say that? I… _these words_ , I think of them!" He gave her a gentle shake. " _Tell me_."

"Let go of me now. I need to go. They don't mean anything."

He didn't let her go. He held her tighter. He looked intensely into her face, causing her to avoid his gaze. "You're lying. It means something…It's something."

He pushed her back against the wall and one of his strong hands took hold of her face, forcing her to look at him. "Oh yes, it means _something_. And you being here? _That_ means something, too."

"It means I came to the wrong fucking place to get away from it all. That's it. Now let me go!" With her words, she gave him a strong shove, allowing her eyes to glow in golden warning. He was pushed back several feet from her, yet she stayed leaning, breathing in panic against the wall.

He raised his chin at her glowing eyes, his own narrowing. But then he pointed at her, "I am tired of others knowing things about me, which I can't seem to remember myself! That is why I came here—escaped Paris! And I had found quiet. And then you— _Leigh_ is it? I can see you are something like me, but _not_. And I can tell-Yes, _you know me."_

He ventured a careful step toward her.

"You know me. Tell me."

Hayley felt frozen, held in place by his gaze against the wall. "Stay away," she warned.

He took another step, his eyes never leaving hers. Then another. "Stay back, I'm warning you…" She spoke so softly, she hardly heard herself.

"You won't hurt me. Whatever you are. A werewolf? Vampire? It matters not …I know you won't."

She felt water trail down her face.

 _Oh Hayley, you fucked up._

Hayley wiped her cheek and looked at him, with a half mad smile and disbelief in her now again hazel eyes. _This man_. She had spent more time _not_ with him, than _with_ him. First the five years he was daggered, while she tried so hard to find the ways to bring them all back together! And when she'd done it, when she'd seen him again, _nothing_ had changed for her.

 _She loved him_. _Loved him so fucking much_!

And then, they'd had almost no time together before fate had driven them apart again… And another five years had passed… But here she was looking at his beautiful face, and knowing she still loved him so much it was _killing her_.

 _I've always loved you, Elijah. From the first time I saw you I loved you._

It's the way it always was. She was a wolf, and she mated for life. This was her curse. But she was a vampire, too.

So she was going to love him _forever_.

"I'm cursed!" She yelled. His eyes widened in surprise, and then softened. He stepped again, hands out in front of him as if not to startle a wild rabbit.

"No more than I, I assure you." He sounded sad. She'd made him sad. She hated herself. She should have _never_ come here!

" _You don't know me_ ," She whispered. Hayley thought of the amber amulet under her shirt.

"I feel as if I do…"

Then, suddenly, he was up against her. His hard body holding hers to the wall again. "Somehow, I feel as if I do know you… Tell me," He asked, desperation in his voice, his gaze pinning her in place. "Tell me why." He brought his hand up to stroke her hair, cup her cheek, feathered his fingers over her lips…

And she was done fighting.

She took his face between her hands, her thumbs stroking his skin. His eyes wordlessly questioned her. "Have you ever done something so stupid? _So selfish_ , but you just couldn't help yourself?" She asked. But she knew. Elijah was never selfish. He was goddamned noble.

"I don't… _know_. I—"

Hayley brought her lips to his, lightly, hesitantly. Their mouths hovered there, breath mingling, hearts beating loudly together. Still.

 _Just this kiss_.

She gasped for ragged breath in the space between their lips.

Elijah grabbed her up hard, and pulled her into him with a throaty moan.


	4. Chapter 4: You Taste Like I Know You

Their mouths were needy.

They kissed as if each kiss was precious air to the dying.

Their hands dragged though hair, pressed over ribs, gripped necks and desperately held closer.

Hayley felt her back against the wall.

 _Like the first time_.

The first time they finally gave in to one another had been so wild and passionate, all that time ago now. How badly she'd wanted him then- _needed_ him! Before she gave herself to Jackson, she'd needed to _be his_. Just once.

 _Just once_.

And when it had happened she knew… although she tried to tell herself something different, she knew she'd given her whole self to Elijah. Her whole heart. Not much had been left to offer poor Jackson, as good as a man as he was. As much as she tried to make it right.

She _belonged_ to Elijah.

 _She still belonged to Elijah_.

Now in France she kissed him, trying to say with her kiss everything she could not say out loud. So she kissed him and kissed him, so that he might know all.

 _How could she be strangers with this man who knew her soul?_

She hardly knew how she was touching his skin, how he was touching hers, how their shirts had come off…

She hadn't noticed the removal of her bra; she only felt his large beautifully sculpted hand cupping her breast, rolling her nipple, causing electric pleasure to shoot through her, as it hadn't done in _far_ too long.

 _Elijah._

She only felt his lips and then his fangs on her neck… and then her golden eyes flashed again. He pushed back and studied her, his head tilting as it always did when he was deep in thought. His dark eyes were searching her golden ones without fear. The oldest monsters had little to fear, after all. She almost had to look away, his gaze mad her feel so naked.

" _Rare_ …So, so beautiful…" He said quietly, with wonder that gave her pause. "How do I know you, beautiful rare one?"

Elijah's fingers tightened in her hair and he pulled her head back slightly, revealing her neck to him more openly. Her heart beat there, wildly. He moved in slowly, but instead of the sting of the bite she anticipated he let his pointed tongue glide up the length of her bared flesh… Up it slid along her skin, like a wet paintbrush on canvas, until it found her lips where it once again slid home.

Hungry for her.

 _Fuck._

She moaned into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting her own weight to wrap her legs around him. He clasped his hands under her ass, supporting her and then he walked her to the carpet before the fireplace, where he laid her down under the white oak painting.

Nothing was hurried now. Every movement of his was thoughtful and slow like molasses. Like he was playing a seductive song on his piano…stroking her here, gripping her there, playing her notes…

He slid his finger into her mouth and felt her fangs, gingerly. The smallest bit of his blood on her tongue, and she felt high. He watched her, and her eyes rolled.

It was _killing_ her.

Then she felt his thumbs on the inside of her skirt waistband, and felt him pull it off along with her tights. He pulled off her boots when the fabric hit the leather-first one and then the other-and then he sat back and looked at her lying naked before him on the rug. Hayley pushed up on her elbows and looked back at him, boldly. Like the queen of the pack, even though her eyes were back to green. She didn't know how ember light played in them.

His mouth tilted slightly.

He pulled open his pants, roughly.

He leaned over her long legs, nudging them open with his head. He spoke against the tender skin of her inner thigh with warm breath, "How do I know you?"

"You don't know me." She answered in a husky voice, tracking as he made progress up her leg with his lips. His eyes catching hers.

"You _taste_ like I know you. I'm sure of it…"

Hayley swallowed hard. Then she gasped despite herself, when his mouth found her.

" _Fuuuuck.._."

He slid his very agile and experienced tongue into her. And out. And in again, playing her sensitive hidden ridges like an artist. His hands gripped the pale flesh of her hips, holding her to him…He watched her watch him. He watched her chest rising and falling faster, until she couldn't hold herself up anymore and fell back onto the carpet.

" _Ahh, yes_. You taste as if I know you…" Elijah hissed.

Now her hands were reaching down to run into his thick dark hair. To hold him where she needed him.

"Eliiiijah…" she moaned on heavy breath.

"Say it again, lovely." He spoke his words into her warm wetness. "Say it _again_ …"

Hayley instead clasped her hand over her own mouth, as if she could keep all her secrets—all _their_ secrets—inside of her. But now she moved against his face like an animal, almost out of control.

 _Elijah!_ She screamed in her head.

And she tumbled over, jerking in spasms of pleasure like she had only ever felt with him.

And before she came all the way down, he moved quickly up and pushed himself deeply inside of her with a primal grunt. Her walls clung and gripped his member with each wave. She cried out into the palm of her hand, before he took it in his along with the other, and held them against the floor over her head. His mouth found hers again, and she tasted her own essence mixed with his. Still so familiar…

He pushed into her with long, hard, powerful thrusts. She could only wrap her legs around him and hold on.

"Say my name!" He grunted into her neck. "Say it again!"

Hayley was outside of her body, looking down on the two wild lovers on the floor bathed in warm ember light. She was riding wave after wave of him. She gave into him completely because she _had no choice._

"Elijah. _Elijah_ …" She said, as if in a dream. Like the many dreams in which she'd called out to him, only to awaken alone and cold.

 _He had always been touching her, even when he was out of reach_ …

And then, just as she was coming again she felt it—a sharp, and thrilling pain! And at once she felt his teeth in her neck—the wash of pleasure that made her body go limp and her vision swirl with colors—and she felt him tense and jerk into her again… and again… and again… until he was still.

His lips came away from her neck, slick with blood. She felt him breathing hard near her ear. She kissed his temple, feeling it beat against her lips…Her hands came down around his heaving shoulders. She stroked him, still floating…

Hayley held him to her for what seemed like the longest time.

Her eyes fell upon Klaus's painting, over his shoulder. Then she shut them tightly.

…She was scared to speak, for fear of waking because this couldn't be real.

 _It was just the best damn dream she'd had so far. That's all it was. And she hadn't awoken yet to be cold and alone. She was still in his warmth._

And then Elijah pushed his weight up, and hovered his face over hers. He leaned down and placed soft, soft kisses across her brow…the planes of her cheeks…her eyelids. Then on her lips.

 _So softly_ , he kissed her… He brought a hand to rub the back of his long fingers down her face. He met her dreamy gaze. His eyes glistened.

Hayley realized his eyes were glistening.

 _Oh God._

And then he said her name.

"My Hayley."


	5. Chapter 5: Don't Look Back

She awoke to find him watching her in the golden morning sunlight. His hair was rich against the creamy linen pillowcase, and his eyes soft.

Neither of them spoke.

He reached his hand to lightly stroke down her arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake and then encircle her fingers in his own. Hayley smiled softly at him.

 _Elijah_.

 _Not a dream_ …

His mouth tilted crookedly, and he reached to pull her to him. He kissed her indolently, as if they had another five years to make up for the last. Hayley closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel him against her, to taste him, to breathe him with all her vampire senses.

" _Hayleeyyyy_ …" his whisper was a warm breeze on her neck where he nuzzled into her. "How are you here now?"

She held him closer.

"I probably shouldn't be…" She finally said with a sigh.

Elijah pulled back and rolled her to her back, looking down at her dark hair mussed against his bed. His eyes found hers. "Don't say that. You are an answered prayer."

"You wanted to leave us. Forget us. For a reason— a _good_ reason…"

He considered. "Perhaps. But I also didn't know."

"Know what?"

He tilted his head, and studied her shoulder… a long finger traced her bare collarbone. He leaned down to kiss it. "How utterly alone I would be", he said against her skin. "Without you, how lost…"

Hayley had visions of him in the white hallway outside the Red Door… She shivered. Lost Elijah broke her heart… and scared her to death. Had it been like that? If he'd forgotten "always and forever", hadn't he also forgotten the nightmares that haunted him?

"Was there no one…?" She wasn't sure she _really_ wanted to know. But she also wanted to believe he hadn't been so very lost or broken. He laid his head down on her chest and his arms held her firmly. She stroked his back.

"There was one." He said after several moments.

At his words Hayley noticed a slight racing of her heart. It was the way he said it: _there was one_. She tried to steady her blood, but not before he heard it. He chuckled against her. But then he brought his mouth to her nipple, enveloping it, and then her heart was racing for a better reason than jealousy.

"Did you love her?" Hayley couldn't help herself. Her fingers mussed in his hair.

" _Shhhh_ …" He shushed her, now playing the other nipple, both breasts held in his hands.

"What was her name?" She pressed.

He stopped his kisses and looked at her thoughtfully with his chin on her breastbone, before answering. "Her name was Antoinette."

 _Antoinette. Fancy._

Hayley chided herself for being a catty bitch. She tried to bring lightness to her voice. "And did you? Love her?"

"I did." Elijah answered her. It felt like a hot poker to Hayley's heart. She tried to keep her face still. Open. "I did, yes. But I wasn't… _myself_. Not really, was I?" He asked of her, quietly. She saw trepidation in his eyes.

 _You're such an asshole_ , she said to herself.

Hayley took his face in both her hands. She pulled him in for a kiss and then she said, pressing their foreheads close "No, but its ok Elijah. I didn't want you to be alone. You should be loved… You should always be loved. I'm sorry. I have no right..."

He suddenly rolled and pulled her atop of him, so that her breasts and body pressed him into the feather bed. He pulled the curtain of her hair over one shoulder, and stroked down her back.

"You have every right." He told her. His hand ran up her ass and down her lower back.

"No I don't." Hayley admitted, begrudgingly. "We weren't together. You'd moved on. Like, _really_ moved the fuck on."

Elijah chuckled, and she felt it in his chest beneath her. He was so solid and real.

 _So here_.

His eyes were amused.

"And did _you_? Did you move 'the fuck' on? …No, on second thought, don't tell me."

But Hayley was suddenly very serious.

"No."

The smirk fell from his lips. He searched her.

"No?"

"Never."

He was very still beneath her weight. The open window rustled the curtain. His hand stilled its musings over her skin.

"…Never? No one?" Did his voice crack?

Hayley's heart skipped when she heard it, and she was filled with love for him.

She adjusted to her knees above him, and his eyes raked over her body, and came back to meet her green gaze. He was suddenly very ready. She rose up… and slowly took him in as she came down. Both of them sucked air between their teeth. His hands found her rolling hips, griping.

"No one. Not love." Hayley answered between what was becoming painting breath. Fire was building within her. He set her ablaze so easily.

 _This man set her on fire._

"It turns out a Michelson isn't that easy to replace. Not _you_ , anyway…"

Elijah sat up and clutched her body tighter, slipping deeper within her.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left as I did..." He offered, a slight desperation in his words. "Please forgive me, please…forgive me."

Her arms wrapped around his neck and they moved together in the dappled light from the window.

In the days that followed, they rarely left his apartment behind the piano bar, so wrapped up and hungry were each of them for the other. Between bouts of lovemaking, when Hayley pushed the reality of what she'd done as far from her mind as she could, they spoke of their time apart. They spoke of family, and she hesitantly told him of Hope. Of Rebekah, Cole, Freya and Klaus… She feared even speaking of them would somehow invite the Hollow near him. And in these moments, although his face would soften when he heard of Cole and Davina being married—

 _That's as it should be._

-or of Freya still in the compound steadfastly searching for a cure, with her love by her side—

 _She's a Viking warrior, that witch_ …

-that Hayley feared she'd selfishly endangered him. She had moments of heart stopping regret and knowing she should have stayed where she was. But, it was when he asked of Klaus that she felt the fear most intensely.

Because _he_ has been the reason for the forgetting.

Because the brothers had spent a thousand years walking the earth together.

 _Because Elijah loved him best of all_.

…Together they sat in the living room, after a simple dinner brought to them by David, each on either end of the settee, legs entangled comfortably. Elijah now looked at the painting and knew it for what it was. He studied it and she wondered about his thoughts, the fear beating a soft beat inside her she hoped he couldn't hear.

Hayley had told him that a few years earlier Klaus had stopped calling. He'd stopped answering her calls on Hope's behalf, as well. Hayley now only got word of him through Freya- And really it was Keelin he texted or briefly called, gruffly leaving messages or directions and hanging up.

"It's as if he's afraid of the people…" Hayley started then trailed off.

"— who love him," Elijah finished.

She didn't answer. It was best not to give voice to the fact that Klaus was… _Klaus._

"He's come near," he said. Hayley just quietly watched him, trying to read him. She couldn't tell if he was angry or sad.

"But you didn't know him?" She finally queried. "When you found the painting?"

"No. Not at all. I don't even think I saw him, actually… _Except_ …Perhaps once?" Then his face lit with the memory, "Yes. He _was_ here once!"

"Here? At the _bar_ , here?"

 _Goddamnit Klaus._

"Yes, yes…that _was_ him! He put a large bill in my tip cup. It was before Antoinette…" His voice was wistful with the memory, but then he stopped.

Hayley smiled knowingly. They had already talked _all about_ Fair Antoinette of the Dark, as she'd started to refer to her in her own mind. It was nicer than 'that other bitch'…plus, Hayley had to admit she really didn't _sound_ like a bitch at all.

 _Maybe a chickenshit_.

"Before Antoinette what? Yeah, _go on.._." He smiled at her.

"It was a bit of time after I came and found her here. After New York… But before she left." He finished, taking a deep drink of the wine in his hand, his gaze upon the painting. The tree seemed to glow in the fading light of the day.

 _Nope. Maybe she_ was _a bitch_ , Hayley thought, drinking her own wine. _A chickenshit bitch_.

After all, didn't she up and leave him? Breaking his heart for no reason? Hayley recalled the story: The two had taken a trip to Paris, and then on to Amsterdam. One night strange vampires— quite a large group of them—had cornered them down a dead street speaking of justice and revenge… Elijah fought them all. Killed them all, before they could hurt Antoinette- or even look at her. He slaughtered them all. Hearts dead on the old cobblestone, blood running into the canal like water.

 _It was as easy as breathing_.

Of course it was.

But the next night, as Elijah slept in their bed Antoinette was gone. Like a thief in the night.

Elijah had no idea where she could have gone, but he knew she'd left on her own accord. She'd left him a familiar note scratched in her swirly handwriting onto the hotel stationary.

 _Don't look back._

She'd just been scared, Elijah told Hayley.

 _Scared!_ She sounded like a fucking coward to Hayley. Like some sort of vampire princess who couldn't handle life, and needed her ass kicked.

She simply didn't understand, Elijah tried to explain, why his past came to find him. He couldn't _remember_ who he was then, but, he admitted, he'd figured it out. After meeting Marcel in New York, he had figured out who _Elijah Michelson was_ …the episode in Amsterdam solidified everything he'd learned.

 _The Michelson's were death itself_.

So he could hardly blame Antoinette for her fear even if she didn't know who he really was. He had only hoped she'd come back to him… And so. He returned to the village and waited. Alone.

And he'd been waiting, still. Until now, he'd told her.

…At the time she heard this, Hayley had had a visceral wolf-like reaction to this news that the _love of her fucking life had been here waiting for another woman to return to him._ She'd kissed him sweetly and deeply in the sheets where she'd just fucked his brains out, and gone to take a shower alone.

Where she could cry and calm herself under the warm water.

It had taken a while.


End file.
